one bookstore trip, i saw a mysterious album cover. the design had a haunting red with a contrasting black; a black so bitter that the objects in the picture became unrecognizable. this album changed how i view music overall.
it opened with “untitled” as crashing guitars ensued, and background ambiance immediately filled. i continued to listen, awestruck, for 49 minutes. interpol perfected a revival whose representation was previously the strokes